Bad Medicine
by Bertie Bott
Summary: On the flight home from saving Edward in Italy, Bella has a decidedly different reaction to finding out the truth behind him abandoning her. While running from her demons, Bella crosses paths with a couple of new ones, one of which she has no desire to run from… New Moon A/U and set in the beginning of season 10 in Supernatural.
1. Part One: Symptoms

**Bad Medicine**

 **Part One – Symptoms**

* * *

Unable to comprehend, Bella stared wide-eyed up into Edward's pleading gaze and gave a long slow blink. His words seeped into her consciousness slowly, each one rubbing salt into the still bleeding wound he'd left in her chest when he'd carved out her heart that night in the woods.

"For you to believe me so easily," he continued, shaking his head, eyes filled to the brim with hurt and pain, "It was excruciating." In the next moment, he turned accusing as he said, "But how could you believe me so easily? After a thousand times of telling you I love you, I thought you would be impossible to convince – that you would be so rightly sure of me. Yet you let one lie, one moment, break your faith in me? How could you, Bella?"

She blinked again. The low whirl of the plane engine started to roar in her ears as the blood rushed to her head. Her vision tilted and then tunneled on Edward. He looked expectant, waiting for her to answer him; answer _to_ him.

"You're asking me why I believed you when you lied to me?" she clarified. Surely she had to be misunderstanding. After the exhaustion and stress, not only from the mad dash to Volterra but also the past several months of her drowning in depression, she clearly had to have misheard him.

"Yes Bella – I thought it would kill me the way you accepted my lie so easily. The pain from it alone almost did."

Her head tilted as she repeated, "Your pain?" Feeling the onset of a migraine, Bella closed her eyes as she tried to make sense of the situation she found herself in.

Edward huffed, impatient with her inability to keep up. "Yes, Bella. Have you any idea how much you hurt me that night?"

For one brief moment, Bella had the sensation of falling. Down, down – further into the rabbit hole – until as if someone snapped a rubber band, she slammed back into her body and her eyes flew open. The moment seemed to freeze as she stared at Edward and saw him in his entirety for perhaps the first time.

And what she saw repulsed her. A child, a manipulative child who was prone to dramatics when he didn't get his way... A boy playing at being a man.

He looked hurt and vaguely accusing, his darkened eyes hollowed with self-pity and loathing. The fact that she had risked her life – gained what was inevitably a death sentence by turning – in order to save him from his impulsive actions, even after he had dumped her so callously, didn't even appear to register to him. All he focused on was his emotions, his own wants and needs. Not even moments safely in the air and away from immediate threat, did he guilt and shame her for believing what he now called a lie.

"How dare I believe you when you lied? How could I?" she summed up his rhetoric, voice low as a slow simmering fury tickled her limbs.

Edward blinked, confused by her sudden anger. Nonetheless, he nodded, widening his eyes in what she was sure he thought made him look innocent and sad. Instead, it made him look half-crazed, his black eyes ravaged by thirst as he embraced, full heartedly, the filth shoveling out of his mouth.

"Please Bella, I will forgive you if you forgive me. Tell me you still love me and we can be together again," he implored.

An epiphany hit her and testing it, she asked, "Forever?"

Edward's eyes hooded and his jaw tightened. "We'll find a way out of turning you, of course. There's no need to be afraid – the Volturi won't find you. I'll protect you, Bella. Always."

He sounded sincere and his tone broke no refusal. To him, he had already decided her fate without so much as asking her what she thought. Her opinion was either wrong or unnecessary.

"No," she breathed.

His head cocked to the side. "No?"

She shook her head as anger overwhelmed her. While a good portion of it was rightly reserved for Edward and his so-called family for treating her like a pet or a toddler incapable of logical thinking – a surprisingly large portion was centered on herself.

 _How could you, Bella?_ he'd asked her and she found herself wondering the very same thing. How could she not see him clearly before when she now saw the truth of him? How could she sacrifice so much of herself, offering it up to the alter of his love, trying to prove herself worthy of him when it was the other way around?

He was unworthy of her and certainly unworthy of the time, effort and emotion she invested in him.

With her epiphany solidified, Bella sat up straighter. The weight of Edward's love and her obligation to him dissolved into dust and was swept away by the winds of her anger and indignation.

"Edward," Alice beckoned from across the aisle.

Bella's fury spiked once more, knowing her professed best friend was likely calling out to share some vision with him in result to Bella's new resolve.

"Not now, Alice," Edward hissed, his sole attention focused on Bella. He widened his eyes at her as though he could will her to change her answer to yes – yes of course she forgave him and she was so sorry for hurting him. It was wrong of her and she'd learned her lesson. So silly of her to act otherwise!

Mashing her lips together, Bella's eyes hardened and her once soft heart hardened into steel against his butterscotch eyes.

"Did I stutter?" she bit out, each word clipped and a small slap to his face.

"Bella?" he frowned, head tilting like a wounded puppy.

"You have some nerve, Edward Cullen, some fucking nerve indeed. Your sister interrupts my life, drags me off to save you from killing yourself in some twisted show of love and when finally away from danger, you blame me for it all in not so many words... _How could I believe you don't love me_ , you ask me?" she scoffed, throwing his pathetic farce of an apology in his face. "Maybe the better question to focus on is how could I have ever trusted you never to lie to me?"

He went to interrupt but she held up a stalling hand. "No. You're done talking and I'm done listening to you and your twisted words designed to show me my place beneath. I'm done listening about Alice's visions which are, at best, plausible fantasies as the future changes constantly with each decision. Listen to her now, Edward," she bid him, anger causing tears to prick at her eyes. "Have her look into my future now and see what she sees."

Obligingly, Edward turned to Alice. The pixie like vampire's mouth was agape, mouth dropped in horror and denial. Her eyes flickered as she sifted through her visions, making one decision after another to sway what she saw.

To no avail. Alice gave a pitiful hiccuping sigh and looked away from Edward in defeat. Even in the face of her failure, Edward still stared down at Alice expectantly, waiting for her to give him the answer to change Bella's mind.

But she was resolved. Never again would she trust Edward Cullen and his family. Never again would she open herself up to that kind of pain and betrayal. For all intents and purposes, they were well and truly dead to her now.

Edward's head snapped to her as though hearing her thoughts. Even in the face of the stubborn tilt of her chin and her resolve shining like an uncontrollable wildfire in her eyes, his own gaze took on the maniacally gleam of obsession as he murmured, "I love you, Bella. I'll never give up on you – on us. I will find a way to get you back."

Despite the anger and a bone weary tiredness hollowing her out and making her feel like only a shell of her former self, Bella still recognized his fervor promise for the threat it was.

* * *

"He's here again," Candice announced, flouncing into the dressing room with a wide, beaming grin.

Bella's hand froze, holding the tube of red lipstick up at her lips. She hated how her heart gave an annoying little flutter at the pronouncement and her eyes narrowed at her co-worker.

"Enough of that now, girl – dude is wicked hot and totes into you and you know you love it."

Suppressing an eye roll, Bella began to apply her lipstick once more. "There are many men who come here and are 'into' us, in case you haven't noticed," she pointed out dryly.

"Yeah, but how many of them only stay for your set and spend the whole time watching you dance like they're mentally undressing you with their teeth?" Candice countered and when she saw Bella open her mouth to reply, she cut her off with, "And don't tell me shit about how many of the pervs here turn fanboy stalkers on us because this is way different. He doesn't just stare at you like he wants to fuck you – he looks at you like he wants to devour you. Like he's only just barely restraining himself from doing so. There's a big fucking difference and you know it."

Problem was she did know it.

"So don't go whining about it, you lucky bitch," Candice mock scolded, a genuine smile taking what little sting there was out of the words. "That man is hot as hell and there's not one of us who wouldn't kill to be in your place... especially if your place ends up with you on your back under him, moaning in pleasure."

Bella laughed even as she blushed, giving Candice a scandalized look.

"You and that blush of yours," she teased. "I bet that's what keeps him coming back to watch you – the fact that you're a stripper who's always fucking blushing whenever your eyes flash to him while you're dancing on stage; which happens all the damn time, ya know. Tell me, when you're performing do you even see any of the Johns throwing their money at you or are you just giving your boyfriend a little show of your own?" and wiggling her brows, Candice twirled around and left the room, her faint giggle lingering after her.

"Bitch," Bella breathed under her breath without any real heat.

Life had sure thrown her a curveball straight out of left field the night she'd come home from Volterra. As she'd suspected, Edward – and by extension, his family – had proven relentless in the pursuit to win her back. The oppressive stalking techniques he'd used throughout their courtship were applied enforce and this time she recognized them for what they were. Her rose-tinted glasses were well and truly shattered when it came to the Cullens but they proved patient and persistent.

The rest of the short school year had been filled with guilt trips, bribes and thinly veiled threats, even. The pack had helped but Victoria proved to be time consuming and, rightfully, a higher priority. Instead of helping on that front, Edward seemed to use the pack's distraction with her to his advantage. He dogged her every step, pounced on her whenever one of the pack members would leave her home. He even used their inability to pin Victoria down as an argument for why Bella needed to be with him.

She was a weak human alone in a world filled with the supernatural. Only he could protect her from Victoria... and in the not too distant future, the Volturi.

Eventually, Edward stooped to offering that which he assumed she still yearned for: immortality.

"You've made your point, Bella. I'll turn you. When we graduate, I'll turn you," he promised with his dark, honeyed smile, assuming victory would be his at the offer.

Instead of falling into his arms and reaffirming her undying love for him, Bella had done the opposite. Inwardly, at least. His 'selfless' offer of turning her became a promise, one she knew he planned on following through with regardless of the fact that the very idea of being a vampire, and thus trapped into a relationship with him, now horrified her.

But with the offer, she saw a glimmer of light at the end of a dark tunnel he'd trapped her in. A hope for an escape.

"Thank you, Edward," she smiled woodenly at him. "I'm still very hurt though. But this helps me know how much you truly love me."

Her stomach had turned at the words and she was thankful Jasper was no where around to relay that fact to Edward.

By giving him a small fledgling spark of hope, Edward had eased up off of her just enough so that when she'd told him Charlie insisted on her visiting her mother in Florida to check out colleges, he'd reluctantly agreed to let her go. The bright sun had effectively kept him there while giving her an out.

"I know it will hardly matter," he'd smiled at her, wrapping his arms around her as he'd seen her off at the airport. "Since you won't be going to college at all – but it will help Charlie accept your disappearance from his life."

He sounded proud, as if he himself had come up with the brilliant plan.

"And at least he'll be able to walk you down the aisle before you leave him forever."

That was another thing he had become insistent on: their marriage. He'd not even asked her. Just told her that they'd be getting married before he turned her so they could spend eternity happily ever after in newlywed bliss.

Smart enough not to voice her outright refusal, Bella had played a delicate balance of resistant but open to the idea. She knew he'd be suspicious if she danced for joy at the proposal, having more than once voiced her displeasure at the concept of marriage in the past. It had been a test of sorts, she suspected, of her sincerity in slowly accepting him back. The tightrope walk he'd forced her on was exhausting, so much so that even as her plane to Florida took off, she could still feel the burn of his eyes on her back, his parting, "I'll be waiting for you, love," echoing in her head with expectation.

In other words, she had better not keep him waiting long.

The hope was that he'd be left waiting indefinitely, though.

Landing in Florida, she'd spent two days with her mom before running. Town to town, no more than a month in each, Bella took jobs a dodgy establishments who were willing to ask little questions and pay under the table.

Well aware that her plan was a stalling tactic, Bella traveled state to state on whims, never deciding when to leave so much as becoming the roaming hippie her mother had once been. Oddly, her mom was proud of her new wanderlust, though Bella was sure to leave false trails with both of her parents in hopes of delaying Edward even more. A part of her worried for their safety as Edward proved to be even more unstable after leaving Italy, but the pack was there to protect Charlie and Bella didn't think the Cullens would risk using Renee to draw her back. If it wasn't clear by now where she stood, Bella was sure they'd understand her position if they threatened her mother. That small token of hope she'd left in Edward would die and she'd be lost to them forever.

As it was, Edward was under the misapprehension that she was testing his love for her, or so Jacob and the pack claimed. The teen vampire often passed messages to her through them but lately, he was becoming more and more demanding of her return. The pack warned her he'd snap soon and would use his seemingly unlimited resources to find her.

Jake wanted her to come home – live on the rez and under his protection – but Bella knew there was expectation with that offer of asylum as well. The wolf would pressure her into a relationship and out of guilt and feeling she owed him, she'd probably give in and things would become ten times worse. Edward would rage a war for her... and kill any who got in his way.

No, the nomad life wasn't perfect and it wouldn't last, but Bella would enjoy her freedom while she could. Hopefully, she'd find an answer to her Edward problem while traveling but if not; well – she'd rather die than become a vampire. As selfish and ironic as it was that she'd consider that route when it was Edward's suicidal tendencies that got them into this mess to begin with, it was looking more and more like her only option.

"You're on, girl," a voice called out, snapping Bella out of her thoughts.

Sighing, she set down her makeup and gave her reflection the once over.

"You'll do," she muttered, getting up and heading towards the stage. Her mind involuntarily flashed to the man who be lingering close enough to the stage to watch her dance while still being far enough away to take in the other men watching her as well and just as Candice teased her about early, she blushed.

Tall, handsome, intense... dangerous...

Bella shivered as she pictured him but then immediately scolded herself for such a reaction. Last thing she had time for was some Pretty Woman nonsense with some random guy interested in saving her and whisking her away from her life as a stripper. As if a human could solve any of her problems – poor guy would be eaten alive if he got involved with her.

The opening strands of Bon Jovi's _Bad Medicine_ hit and with a deep breath, Bella took to the stage and resolutely kept her eyes away from the far right corner where she knew her mystery man would be lingering.

She moved through her routine on autopilot, absently feeling the small strokes of hands slipping money into the straps of her heels as she reached out an accepted tips from others, slowly slipping the bills between her breasts before tucking them in the underwire of her barely there sequin bra.

If Edward could see her now, she smirked...

Being a stripper had not been part of the plan, but after a couple cold nights of no work in one of the earlier towns she'd been in, it hadn't taken her long to shyly enter a club. As far as businesses go, strip clubs were quick to turn a blind eye to something like fake names and lack of identification and there was a surprising sense of unity amongst the staff, at least in the ones Bella sought out. Trick was to find a nice middle ground club, nothing too seedy but certainly not a burlesque cabaret. She'd started out waiting tables in skimpy outfits but some of the girls had taken pity on her shy clumsy ways. They'd taken her under their wing and taught her many things from being able to walk straight in insanely tall heels to being able to twist her body in such a way to bring a grown man down to his knees and offer up his money.

It was all strangely empowering.

Edward would be having kittens if he knew – that is, if he didn't all ready – and that alone gave her an insane amount of joy and made pushing past her slight embarrassment worth it.

 _Look at me now, Alice_ , she thought with another sensual smirk as she flung her hair back and arched her back. _Fucking eat your heart out_.

" _Your love is like bad medicine  
Bad medicine is what I need  
Shake it up, just like bad medicine  
You got the potion that can cure my disease"_

The song came to an end and despite her resolve, her eyes flicked over to him.

There he stood, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest looking the perfect combination of arrogantly casual. Even in the dim light she could see the faint curl of his lips upwards when their eyes connected and she predictably blushed. His short, scruffy friend was there also watching her though his appreciative gaze didn't effect her nearly as much as the other's.

The lights changed on stage and for a second, Bella's heart stopped as she thought she saw his eyes flash black.

Mentally shaking herself, Bella tried to calm her racing heart as she went backstage. Just a trick of the light, she was sure...

Taking a fortifying breath, her heart leap into her throat once more when a deep, vaguely British voice sounded from behind her.

"Hello darling."

Slapping a hand to her chest, Bella turned sharply and eyed the newcomer warily. It was the short somewhat scruffy guy who was often with her admirer.

"A bit jumpy, are we?" he lifted a brow in amusement.

Her eyes narrowed. "Well, wouldn't you be when someone sneaks up behind you in an area they're not supposed to be?" Her eyes darted around for a moment and he broke her thoughts again.

"He's not here," the man smirked, amused when she started again.

"Who's not here?" she asked, feigning indifference.

"My friend," he said with another smirk. While there was a clear vibe of danger about him, Bella couldn't help but find his deep timber accent oddly soothing.

She shrugged dismissively and he chuckled into a glass filled with a dark amber liquor – whiskey or bourbon, likely – as he brought it up to his lips. "Two peas in a pod, you two are," he mumbled into the glass as he took a swig.

"Look," she said, slipping on a jacket to cover her still mostly unclothed body. "Where's the chase here and how do we cut to it?"

He gave her another one of those darkly amused looks with a touch of condescending to it. "Aren't you feisty – I'm beginning to see what he sees in you, other than that delightful derrière of yours."

Heat flooded her cheeks at the inappropriate compliment.

"And then there is that, isn't there? Such a naughty innocent little thing you are."

"Listen guy," Bella began, slowly inching away from him. Before she could finish her scathing remark, however, a crystal perfect voice interrupted her.

"Isn't this interesting?"

Jumping and clutching at her heart – she was sure the poor thing would give out at the next surprise – Bella turned around and her once flushing cheeks drained of any and all color.

A matter of time, she'd always known, but it was still not the vampire she'd expected to track her down.

"Jane," Bella murmured. Her feet twitched as she fought her instinct to run. Fight or flight; her body instantly wanted to give in to the latter, not that it'd do her any good.

The petite vampire smiled though it did nothing to soften her demeanor. "You've caused quite a bit of trouble, little human. The masters are not pleased."

Despite herself, she snorted. "Let me guess. Edward ran and tattled, didn't he?"

Jane cocked her head. "The Cullen boy awaits your return in Volterra at which point you will be turned."

"And?"

Jane lifted a brow. "Was I unclear? Or is your feeble human mind unable to comprehend?"

Rolling her eyes, Bella huffed, "I'm sure there's something in it for the Volturi and you're not helping out of the kindness of your stone cold hearts."

Another fleeting and menacing smile curled her lips as Jane said, "For the favor of our interference, you both will then serve the guard for one hundred and fifty years."

"Fucking great," Bella snapped. "Not only does that little prick run and tattle on me, he also enslaves me to a bunch creepy old vampire kings. You know what?" she laughed, the sound coming out a bit hysterical. "You give my regards to your douchebag kings but I'm not going."

"You're not going?" Jane repeated dully.

Bella snorted. "Was I unclear? Or is your feeble vampire mind unable to comprehend?" she parrotted back with a sneer.

Jane hissed, taking a threatening step forward.

"I wouldn't do that now, princess."

Bella's eyes closed in regret. Regardless of whether or not the dude was creepy, she'd forgotten about the man and didn't want him caught up in her drama. He'd only pay for it with his life.

Jane turned to him and to Bella's surprise, she paused.

"This doesn't concern you," she murmured, obviously upset but strangely leery.

"That's where you're wrong," he returned, stepping towards her and smiling when she skittered back. "You see, a friend of mine if rather fond of our girl her. I reckon he'd be a mite disappointed if you took off with her before I could seal the deal for him."

While still concerned for the stranger, she couldn't help but snicker slightly. "So you're the wing man?"

He turned to her and amusedly tilted his head in acknowledgment. "I'm afraid the lad was a bit shy so I was going to take matters into my own hands and give him a little push..."

"Sir," Jane said, cutting off when the man looked at her again.

"Vampire scum. Nothing more than parasites, the lot of you. No matter the breed of leech, you always get in my way."

The shadows stirred and Jane was now backed by two hulking figures – Felix and Demetri, if Bella's memory served her right. Their presence seemed to bolster Jane. She lifted her meek gaze from the floor.

"So this is how it's going to be then, kiddos?"

"The girl comes with us," the bigger of the two men stated. "And anyone who gets in our way will be destroyed."

The man nodded, lifting his glass up to his lips as he knocked back the last of his drink. He hissed after he swallowed, saying, "Yes. That's what I thought you'd say."

Bella blinked and Demetri was at her back, hands curled around her upper arms with bruising strength as he yanked her towards Jane and Felix.

"Bad move there," the strange man smiled. The ominous warning was mingled with anticipation. He absently started straightening his tie as he leaned off to the side and shouted out, "Oy! Dean-o! Come out and play, yeah? These guys are trying to steal your girl!"

A flurry of movement and Bella was hurled into a wall as someone crashed into Demetri. Collapsing to her knees, she heard a grunt of pain as the new figure twitched in front of her. Jane's wide, red gaze was fixed on him, clearly focusing her nasty gift on him.

"Stupid bitch," Bella muttered. Reaching down, she plucked off on of her heels and hurled it at her. "Hey! Ease up there, Janey."

Jane swatted the shoe away and flicked her eyes to Bella with another hiss. There was another bout of movement too fast for her to comprehend, but suddenly ice fingers were around her wrists as she was being dragged across the floor.

Struggling, Bella flailed about, trying with ever ounce of strength she possessed to break free. In the background, she heard the sound of wrenching metal and a deep, satisfied chuckle.

Abruptly, she stopped. The hands around her wrists were gone and Bella looked up in time to see the newcomer jab a wicked looking knife – was that _bone_ , she distantly balked – into Felix's gut.

To her surprise, the crude weapon sliced through the vampire's marble skin faster than a snowball evaporating in hell.

Blinking, she stared at Felix's collapsed body, her mind unable to comprehend what it'd just witnessed.

New hands grasped at her – this time warm, strong and calloused. Her body was tugged upright and her own hands lifted to brace herself against a warm, heaving chest.

Eyes flashed and caught.

Hazel, she noticed somewhere in a decent corner of her mind. The world began spinning and black dots bloomed across her vision.

Her mystery man had hazel eyes and she swore, right before she passed out, they turned black and she saw the devil in him.

* * *

 **(A/N):** Hope you enjoyed the first part! I've been itchy to write some Supernatural... especially demon Dean so I can't wait to hear what you all thought. Thanks for reading and until next time... Cheers darling.


	2. Part Two: Diagnosis

**(A/N):** Friendly reminder that this story takes place at the beginning of season 10 for Supernatural... Dean is a demon/knight of hell and Crowley has had a taste of humanity. Hope you enjoy!

 **Part Two: Diagnosis**

The second he saw her, he knew. Looking beyond the creamy smooth skin, the rocking bod and pouty lips... Beyond the way she'd so clearly honed all of her attributes to incite lust and want in the males around her. He saw past the pretty wrappings and glimpsed the real gift lurking within; the one he was driven to possess. Dean knew it as surely as he knew he was a sick son of a bitch for what he wanted to do to her. To do with her. He knew – and it still wouldn't stop him.

She was hovering on the brink of destruction – flirting with the edge of a cliff and yearning to leap. She was ready to detonate and all she needed was a spark...

She'd drawn him in instead and would be getting a wildfire to ravage and burn her out hollow.

He recognized the symptoms instantly. The way her eyes flicked across the leering faces and the small, barely perceptible self-satisfied gleam she'd get at their lustful wanting so clearly tenting their pants. But there was innocence there too – so clear in her blushing cheeks and almost awed expression when she realized she held such power.

Even beyond that, he took in her defensive posture whenever she left the stage and the way her eyes flicked to the exits even as she removed her clothes. She made it a point to be aware of her surroundings at all times and examined shadows as if she expected the boogie man to leap out and snatch her up at any second if she gave him the opportunity. Through the lustful innocence that clearly told him she'd never known a man's touch – and he was so very inclined to change that as soon as possible – he recognized not only a virgin in stripper's garb but also the tell-tale signs of a woman on the run for her life. A woman who just might know more than the average bear when it came to monsters lurking under the bed.

While driven by his vices – mainly the urge to slake his lust with her willing body and shed the blood of whoever got in his way – a small, nearly dormant corner of his mind whispered an old motto.

 _S_ _aving people, hunting things... The family business_.

He wanted to devour her innocence and ruin her for any other. He wanted to push her over the edge of chaos and make her the Bonnie to his Clyde... Take her out and paint the town red for shits and giggles. He'd burn the world to ash for a laugh and afterwards, he'd find his religion in the wet little slice between her milky white thighs. He would sample what no other man had tasted and if it was the last thing he did, he'd tear her apart piece by piece and leave his stain upon her. Marking her as his alone. He'd taint her and fill her with his darkness even as he coveted her light.

But a part of him wanted to protect her, even from himself. Shield her from the horrors that go bump in the night even knowing he was the one that bumped the loudest.

At war with himself, he'd been content with simply killing off the more persistent patrons of her show. About five seedy gentleman – and he used that term loosely – in total had met their demise at his hand. Crowley had bitched about the last two. Dean had almost caused a scene in the middle of her set but he thought he reacted not only with great restraint when waiting to usher them out of the club as soon as his girl was safely backstage, but he'd also been entirely justified in gutting the bastards.

They'd been planning to offer her a job at their club across town but they didn't even have a Taco Tuesday or a Five-Dollar Steak Night so Dean couldn't have that. Besides, this place actually served pie.

He wanted to watch his girl tease the hell outta these poor schmucks while he had some pie – was that so much to ask for?

He didn't think so. When he turned to a bitching Crowley, hands dripping with the still warm blood of his most recent victims, his fingers tightened around the First Blade. Bringing it up, he pointed at him with it while snapping, "You wanna be next, chubby?"

Well, that'd shut him up right quick. Fucking thankfully, too, because dude usually was quite fun to roll with and sang a wicked version of _Free Bird_ during their karaoke nights.

"She's in your head, Dean-O," Crowley had mumbled earlier that night as they took up their usual spot at stage right. "Are you gonna do something about it or should I just cut off your balls and hand them to her so she can put them in her little purse right next to where she keeps your pride?"

Dean grunted.

With a devilish smirk, Crowley tilted his head to get a better look at her ass as she executed a particularly impressive spin and slide move, ending with her breasts shoved in some lucky bastard's face. The man obligingly started throwing bills up onto the stage but Dean's keen gaze honed in on the man's flexing hands, aching to reach out and sample what didn't belong to him...

Dean would have to pay a little visit to this loser later on.

"If you don't make a move," Crowley murmured as if following Dean's train of thought. "Somebody else will."

As if on cue, his girl's eyes flicked to him. A rolling warmth spread throughout his body as he took in her delicious blush. Sweeping across her cheeks and down her neck, the rosy hue highlighted her barely covered breasts and made his mouth water. Fucking delicious.

He wanted to eat her up like she was the last slice of pecan pie in the world – slow and with relish. He would savor every last inch of her.

Watching as she looked away from him and scampered off stage, Dean turned to Crowley and said in a gruff, growly voice, "Any of these fuckers goes near her and I'll rip their dick off and shove it down their throat until they either suffocate to death or die of the shock."

"Either way – " Crowley grinned, "Bound to be a fun time."

Deciding another drink was in order, Dean left Crowley with a sharp clap to the shorter man's shoulder that had him stumbling forward with a grumble. With a smirk, he eyed the impressive rack on the bartender in front of him but where he once would've leaned forward and given into the impulsive to give her tits a nice, slobbery motorboat – bouncers be damned – he now compared them to another pair and found them woefully lacking.

"Fuck off, skank," he said in response to the inviting wink she gave along with his beer.

Chuckling as she huffed indignantly, he took a moment to admire her ass as she scampered away. Nice, but not as nice as his girl's.

"Don't forget my whiskey chaser!" he called out after her.

Greeting said skank with another condescending smirk as she none too gently set his shot of whiskey in front of him a moment later, he grabbed his beer and shot and gave her a mocking toast before ditching her and making his way to the backstage entrance. Crowley was no where to be seen, but he'd meet up with the guy soon enough. They had plans for some dirty dealing and the mark was hungry for blood. And Dean was eager to feed it.

First, he had to feed the need to see to his girl which was only marginally stronger at the moment. The benefit of hindsight had him knowing she was likely removing the bulk of her stage makeup and dressing in her civilian gear before she'd slip out the back and walk down the street to the seedy motel she was staying in. After first setting his eyes on her, it hadn't taken long to learn her routine. No doubting his girl was smart but she sure as hell was oblivious to her surroundings if she hadn't noticed him stalking her fine ass to and from the club each week. Which was strange because she made it a point to scan around her constantly, shoulders taut as though she was winding up a Jack in the Box toy knowing it would spring out at her at any moment and scare the shit outta her.

Taking a deep gulp of his beer, he contemplated breaking into her dressing room and bending her over whatever surface was nearest and fucking her until neither of them could physically stand any longer. He shook off the strong urge pulsing through him – it took damn near his entire will to fight the impulse but last thing he wanted to do was blow his load early like a teen losing his v-card on prom night and scare the girl off. Dean Winchester was no two pump chump. No... slow and steady, he told himself. If he restrained, she'd slowly walk into his beckoning arms and then he would spring the trap. Unknowingly, she'd slip his noose around her neck and tighten it for him, smiling shyly all the while. Once he had her hung up on him, he'd never let her go. So he abstained, thankful for the liquor coursing through him that dulled his desire to just a muted roar. It'd be worth it, he told himself. Fucking A, would it be worth it...

Only this night was different. Instead of hearing her call out her friendly goodbyes to her co-workers, Dean heard the mumbling of several voices slowly raising in anger. Recognizing the gruff British twang of his friend, Dean tensed. He'd hand Crowley his ass if he was in there messing with her...

At the first shout of, "Oy! Dean-o! Come out and play, yeah? These guys are trying to steal your girl!" he was off like a gun.

Charging into the cramped room with the finesse of a raging bull on steroids, it took Dean all of three seconds to assess the situation. Crowley, standing back waiting for the show to begin, and three vampires clearly with a death wish – one of who had his fucking icy hands on his girl, leaving what were sure to be tender bruises along her arms in his wake.

Son of a bitch was _marking_ his girl and it would not stand.

No hesitation, he dove for them, pulling back his strength just enough so that he wouldn't crush her under the onslaught of his furious attack. She slammed back into the wall and slid down, winded for sure, but largely unharmed. With that fact safe in mind, Dean's anger snapped its leash and he unloaded his fury onto the idiot beneath him in a storm of flying fists. Marble skin gave way to his balled up fists, spiderweb cracks splintering across the guy's face as the Mark of Cain feed Dean's rage and strength.

 _Damn it feels good to be a gangsta_ , he thought with just a hint of a smirk as he bashed the dude's head in right before fire flooded his veins.

Caught unaware by the pain, he collapsed with a grunt, allowing the idiot under him to crawl away.

The pain just made him even angrier, though, and his eyes turned into two fiery black pits as they connected with the little girl vampire staring intently at him like a kid unwilling to lose a staring contest. His smirk returned as their eyes connected and her own gaze widened as she took him in, seeing his amusement even through his pained grimace. Gathering up all his rage through the never-ending stream of pain running over him, Dean managed to make it to a knee and was about to launch himself at the little bitch when a voice broke through the fire:

"Stupid bitch - Hey! Ease up there, Janey!"

And then a stripper heel sailed passed Dean's head towards the little witch.

With a dark chuckle, he watched her dodge the shoe easily enough but her concentration was well and truly broken so when the pain let up, he made quick work of gutting her like a stuck pig. The little witch's eyes widened in shock as he buried the First Blade into her gut and pulled it down, her icy venom splattering over him as her guts spilled out onto the floor at his feet.

Puckering his lips up into a mocking kiss, he twisted his wrist and the blade carved out even more of her insides before he yanked it out and took it to her head. A dull thud sounded as he lopped it off and unable to resist, he punted it into the nearest wall and internally counted it as a field goal.

Turning, he saw the bastard from earlier tugging his girl away. She was twisting and jerking in his hold but though admirable her attempts were, she was no match for vampire strength.

Good thing he was there, he decided. With no problem at all, he walked over to the vampire, yanking him off his girl and stuck the blade into his stomach with a satisfying wet _squish_. On his arm, the Mark of Cain hummed and tingled pleasantly like a bug bite he'd just spent an hour scratching. Numb and satisfied, the mark and his drive for blood dimmed and Dean turned to his girl, sweating and chest heaving as he caught his breath.

Wide, brown eyes drank him in and he was done for it. Done with waiting and done with the games. She would be his whether she wanted to be or not. Game fucking over.

Tilting his head, he stuck the blade in the waist of his jeans and stalked to her like a predator eying a particularly appealing prey. His hands shot out on their own accord, firmly gripping her and hauling her up so fast she fell into his chest, her body pressed satisfyingly close to his.

But still not close enough.

Shock and awe crossed her eyes as he drank her in like a man dying of thirst. He wanted to gorge himself on her; lie her back to the ground, splay her thighs open and feast on her until she lost her voice from crying out his name.

And then he'd drink some more...

As though hearing his wicked thoughts, her eyes widened even further before her thick lashes batted and she went completely limp in his hold. He caught her easily, gathering her up into his arms in one smooth swoop.

With her pressed tight against him, he took a moment to survey the room. A thrill of victory surged through him as he took in the mangled bodies of his foes and he stood tall like a gladiator having survived the games despite the odds stacked against him. He'd come out the victor.

And to the victor goes the spoils.

His grip tightened on the girl in his arms and Dean made for the exit, uncaring of the carnage left behind him. Let someone else worry about cleanup – that wasn't his department.

"So we're just gonna take her, then?" Crowley fell into step behind him.

Dean paused, looking back at him over his shoulder. "You wanna try and take her from me?" he asked, the challenge plain in his tone.

Crowley snorted and held up his hands. "I'm just saying a little appreciation would be nice. I did help, after all."

Dean lifted a brow. "Standing in a corner, trying not to break a nail – that's what you call helping?"

"Didn't want to spoil your fun," Crowley grinned.

To that, Dean gave a grudging nod as a matching grin broke his stoic expression. Gutting those bastards had been fun, he had to hand the guy that.

"Besides, I came back here to put in a good word for you – help you seal the deal," Crowley said. "Good thing too as it sounds like she's got a bunch of those lot after her. Your girl's been on the run from vampires, Dean-o, including their self-appointed kings and some boy toy named Edward who wants her back."

Equal parts rage and anticipation filled him at the knowledge and Dean hefted her up more securely in his arms and made for the door once more.

"Let them come – I'll gut them all one by one and let them watch as I pull out their own intestines to strangle them with."

Behind him, Crowley sighed. "Never a dull moment around you, is there? But like I said earlier – either way, bound to be a fun time."

Visions of defiling the girl in his arms were interspersed with images of violence, fighting and general mayhem. Dean felt his eyes shutter black. Oh yes, fun times were ahead.

" _She's my cherry pie... Cool drink of water such a sweet surprise. Taste so good make a grown man cry... Sweet cherry pie, yea_ _aaaa_ _h_."

He cut her a wink while lifting his hand up to point at her as he drew out the last word.

Predictably, Bella blushed.

A few people started heckling but Dean continued to strut on stage, drinking and shooting her smarmy grins without a care in the world.

"Nauseating, isn't it?"

Biting her lip, Bella turned to Crowley who had plopped down across from her and raised a brow. "Says the man who was singing Ricky Martin last night?"

He maintained an impressive glare until his lips ever so slightly pulled up in response to her own twitching as she fought a smile at the memory. "We are living la vida loca, aren't we, dearest?"

Reaching out for the drink he set before her, Bella couldn't help but get lost in thought as she faintly responded, "The crazy life for sure."

Having come to in Dean's arms just a short week ago after watching him singlehandedly destroy three of the Volturi's best, Bella found her whole world turned upside down, inside out and every other direction Ricky Martin sang about.

The supernatural... Witches, ghosts...

Demons, her eyes flicked to Dean singing on stage.

All real and all now part of her ever crazy reality that she was still barely keeping a grip on. On stage, Dean spun and hit a particularly high note.

 _Barely_ , she thought, taking a deep gulp.

"There you go, love," Crowley murmured, dark eyes focused on her as she chugged her drink.

Don't even get her started on that smarmy bastard. A king, they told her. Not just any king though – oh no. Here she was, sitting in some dive bar, kicking back brews with a demon who just so happened to be the king of hell.

She couldn't make this shit up.

"Give it time," he said, sounding somewhat comforting as she slammed her empty mug down on the table and sucked in a deep, fortifying breath. "Sweet girl like you – you're just begging to be corrupted."

She knew she should've run – that she was in over her head with the two men she'd been bar hopping with for the past week. But when faced with an insane, ex-boyfriend vampire who was surely drawing closer and what was essentially the mafia equivalent of the vampire world... Well, she supposed she'd rather take her chances with a demon knight of hell and the king.

"I think you're a bad influence on me," she said dryly.

Crowley raised his brows and responded pointedly, "King of hell, here."

"Cheers, your highness," she grinned, leaning forward and stealing his drink to kick back.

"Saucy little minx," he grumbled with surprising lack of heat.

Something must be wrong with her, Bella decided, because intellectually she knew the man – if you could call him that – before her had done unspeakable things that would scar her for life if she'd ever hear about them yet she actually was rather fond of him. She supposed it was the lack of putting on airs. After months of Edward suppressing his vampire side and pretending to be something he wasn't while smothering her own personality in the process, it was refreshing hanging out with two individuals who embraced who and what they were so unashamedly.

Then there was Dean...

Intense didn't even begin to cover it. Everywhere she went, he followed, his eyes burning a trail across her skin. When she'd woken in his arms, he'd spoken very little at first but she'd never forget his first words to her.

"You're mine now."

Shocked, she'd just stared at him blankly as he carried her down the street and to the motel room that'd served as her home for some time now.

Crowley had then taken it upon himself to give her the truth is out there talk and Bella knew she'd escaped one monster just to get trapped by another. But Dean wasn't like Crowley. He actually struck her as more dangerous than the king while at the same time, more restrained. Crowley was like a demon with a small taste of humanity whereas Dean was a human with a hunger for sin. They both were equally deadly but where Crowley might be inclined to hold back and think of the larger picture, Dean was a man living second to second. Ruled by impulses he seemed only to hold back from when it came to her.

There was more than they both told her, she was sure of it. More to Dean Winchester than a devil with black eyes. At times when he looked at her, she was surprised to see a sadness lingering in the corners of his haunted gaze. There was an openness and she saw more than just lust and frank need in his steady expression. A lake – his eyes held the eerie calm of a placid lake but underneath the surface? A whirlpool that would suck her down into him.

She would drown but she wouldn't be alone.

It was for those reasons she lingered, unable to tear herself away from the walking contradiction Dean made. Unable to resist growing closer to him and not only because she knew he would protect her from the vampires after her... But because Dean Winchester was like a man drowning himself in sin for the greater good. Proud, stubborn for true, but something more as well. She wanted to stay and find out just how deep his darkness ran and if there really was no saving him from himself.

Foolish perhaps, but she couldn't spend her life running forever and Bella couldn't help but think Dean was someone worth the time and effort to stop and get to know. That he was worth the risk to her already battered heart.

Speak of devil, having finished his song – a signature one he sang every time they went to karaoke – Dean collapsed into the empty seat beside her. Stretching his arm along the back of her chair in an unmistakable sign of casual possession, he turned to Crowley and said, "It's your turn – make it good."

With a long suffering sigh, Crowley stood, straightened his tie and then went to the karaoke machine. Yanking the mic out of someone's hand while simultaneously pushing the guy offstage, he coolly punched in a number and eyed the crowd before smirking at Bella.

"This one goes out to all the devils out there..."

A guitar riff split the room followed by a thumping drum. Choking on her drink, Bella watched wide-eyed as ACDC's _Highway to Hell_ cued up on the screen. With another wink at her, Crowley proceeded to awkwardly sway in place, nodding his head off beat, while singing the classic rock song in monotone.

Despite her nerves and troubling thoughts, Bella immediately busted out into giggles which grew even louder when Dean grinned and started heckling.

"FREEBIRD!" he called out, winking at her as she snorted.

Not even phased, Crowley lifted the hand still holding his glass of whiskey and stuck out his middle finger at them.

"My life is like some crazy, twisted dream," Bella gasps, wiping tears from her eyes. "And I keep thinking any minute now I'll wake up and then boom – the king of hell starts singing _Highway to Hell_ and I'm not even all that surprised. I should be more shocked, shouldn't I?" she looked to Dean imploringly.

"Sweetheart," Dean began, leaning into her side and planting his lips against her ear as he whispered gruffly, "Deep down, you're just as twisted as we are so you might as well give in to it." He licked his lips, "Give in to me."

His breath tickled her ear and his lips had her stomach bottoming out with desire. A blush swept across her face and with a smirk, Dean reached out and drew his finger down the apple of one cheek and murmured, "That's some blush you have there, Cherry."

Swallowing, she asked, "Cherry?" in a soft, slightly cracked voice.

His smirk widened. "My cherry pie."

He was going to kill her – no doubt about it. All week long he'd been slipping his arm around her – a touch here, a lingering caress there. Terms of endearment layered with innuendo, one after the other falling from his honeyed poison tongue and his words washed over her, sinking into her skin until they resonated in her very bones.

Yes. She was his – or would be. God, help her.

"Dean," her voice quivered.

He grinned down at her, an unmistakable gleam of victory in his eyes. It would've been insulting had he not started caressing idle circles up and down her arm. All thoughts about demons and hell evaporated until all that was left filling her head was Dean Winchester.

"Yes?" his voice dripped with dark amusement.

She cleared her throat. "I-I want..." she trailed off, unable to articulate all she was feeling into words.

"Sh-h," he cooed. "Easy there, Cherry. I know what you want – and you know it's yours."

"Son of a bitch," she whispered. "Fuck it."

Then she dove for his lips. Teeth clashing, Dean quickly moaned his appreciation for her bold move and quickly set them on a more steady pace, his tongue swiping out to taste her as he moaned deep in his chest. It sounded like a deep purr against her, causing her breathing to hitch.

Before she could pull back and stammer some sort of apology, Dean's arms locked around her. Breaking their kiss just long enough to catch his breath, he picked her up as easily as if she weighed about as much as a piece of paper, hauling her out of her chair and up onto his lap. Her legs obligingly fell open and when he pulled her back down against him there was no mistaking his desire for anything but.

"Mine," he murmured, lips moving away from her mouth to allow her to breathe. They left a sloppy trail to her neck where he sucked along her pulse point.

She quivered against him. "Yes," she gasped.

In the background, she heard Crowley singing... " _And I'm goin' down. All the way... I'm on the highway to hell_."

"Hey you two – get a room!" some bar patron called out.

Not one to waste an opportunity, Dean stood up, locking her ankles around his hips.

"Good idea," he mumbled against her neck.

Embarrassment flooded her but was soon forgotten when she felt the scrap of his teeth along her skin. Her eyes fell shut and she arched into him.

A surface hit her back and a vague part of her mind knew there was no way they could've been back in their hotel room already. Cracking open an eye, she realized he'd hauled her into the men's room.

At the sink, some dude in a trucker hat was leering at them.

"Uh – Dean," she tapped his shoulder.

He pulled back looking mildly annoyed until he followed where she pointed to and he snapped, "Get the fuck outta here or I'll carve your eyes out with a spoon."

The man gulped. Even he knew Dean was good for it.

The door slammed behind him and decidedly, Dean carried her over to it and locked it with a loud click of finality.

"No running now. I've got you," he teased darkly.

Though she knew he meant it.

And strangely, running was the last thing on her mind.

His lips caught hers again as his hands circled around her wrists and pinned her to the door.

Letting out a moan worthy of a porn star, Bella's desire ignited hotter until she started subconsciously bucking against him, desperate for friction to ease the tension gathering within her.

"Fuck it," he repeated her words from earlier and letting go of her wrists, he ripped her shirt open and snapped the front of her bra as if it were made of silly string. Not leaving her any time to feel self-conscious, he welcomed himself to her breasts and sharply tugged a nipple into his mouth, rolling it around with his tongue.

"Dean!" she gasped loudly, fingers sifting into his hair and pulling him closer to her.

"That's right, baby," he said against her. "Let them know who you belong to."

Then his hand slipped into her pants, one of his long talented fingers circling her clit until she shuddered against him on the verge of shattering apart.

"Dean, please," she gasped, over and over.

He pulled away from her breasts and looked down at her. His chest was heaving, muscles bunching under her shy fingers. When she looked up, his eyes glittered down at her, black as night.

They stared at each other, chest to chest and hearts racing so loudly the other could feel the echo of the beat in them.

Snapping out of whatever thoughts held him, his eyes flashed back to hazel and he smiled down at her, dimples creasing his cheeks and making him even more attractive – if that were possible. As strangely erotic she found his black eyes to be, his more human hazel gaze set something to ease within her.

Whether he knew it or not, it was more than just lust between them.

She heard the jingling of his pants being unbuttoned and unzipped. With a muted thud, they fell to the floor and before she could appreciate the view, he was tearing her jeans off and easing inside her.

"Sh-h," he hushed, bringing his lips to hers soothingly when she tensed at the invasion. "I've got you, Cherry."

So at odds with the violent, primal side of him that she was more often than not witness to, Bella slowly unwound. He sank into her with a sigh and when he reached the barrier of her innocence, he pushed passed it with a sharp thrust that had her jolting, her head falling back to hit the door behind her.

With him firmly seated inside of her, they held still for a long moment.

She felt... strange. There she was losing her virginity to a demon in the bathroom of a dive bar and yet she had this sense of being overwhelming connected and grounded to said demon. Maybe she was just a naive virgin equating sex with true intimacy but Bella had never felt closer and more open to anyone in her entire life and if the strangely unguarded way he stared down at her was any indication – it was the same for Dean.

"Please," she whispered.

 _Tell me this is more... More than lust and more_ _than you taking your fill before leaving_...

Pride held the pleas at bay but his eyes softened at her with knowing.

Pulling his hips back, Dean thrusted into her. Again. Then again.

The bathroom filled with their moaning as they each sought satisfaction within the other until with a sharp cry she came against him, shattering apart like a spun glass figurine dropped to the floor.

Bit by bit, Dean picked each jagged edge of her up and pieced her back together only to drop her over the edge again. He never acknowledged the words she held back, but when he came inside her, it wasn't with the triumphant roar she would've expected. Instead, he whimpered against her lips, frowning as his eyes screwed shut.

But even so, she saw the glimmer of wetness lingering there, his own sparkling fragments evident as he broke apart against her.

Doomed – the word floated across her mind in her post-coital bliss. They were hopelessly doomed.

Weeks later found them in a new city, new hotel and new club.

Bella's eyes swept across the audience as she approached the pole and when the familiar strands of _Cherry Pie_ started, she couldn't help but coyly grin to where she knew Dean was lingering. Her old co-worker Candice had once accused her of putting on a show for him. She'd laughed it off at the time but now it was all too true. He enjoyed watching her perform publicly, especially as each night ended with him spending hours teasing her willing body into submission. Dean wasn't necessarily the jealous type though he took great pride in claiming her as his whenever and wherever possible.

It was a familiar scene recreated in whatever town they found themselves in. Bar hopping, karaoke, sex and fighting... Their world became a blur of vices as they kept moving. Town to town, never settling for longer than a couple days in each. Always running, each three of them almost afraid to stop long enough for reality to crash the party.

Wanting to hurry up and finish her set so she, Dean and Crowley could get ready to hop town again, Bella started swaying to the music only to stop when she took in the familiar face in the front row.

Edward eyed her darkly, his storming eyes managing to convey appreciation while still disapproving.

"Dean," she called out, even as Edward hopped up onto the stage and threw her over his shoulder.

He moved faster than he should've, clearly not thinking about the humans around them though it was a particularly slow night, thankfully.

Hurling her back down to her feet, Edward loomed over her. "Just what in the world do you think you're doing, Bella," he scolded.

"Dean!" she yelled out again.

Looking around, she saw that he'd brought her out to the back alley.

 _Good_ , she thought. _No witnesses_.

For Dean was sure to kill him for touching her and she knew he wouldn't hesitate to take out any innocent bystanders as well.

Sure enough, the door behind Edward slammed open with a reverberating bang that had her flinching. Dean entered the alleyway, his entire presence filling the open area with an overwhelming sense of anger and oppression.

A strange tingle of awareness danced up her spine and she was gripped with the sudden and utter certainty that something bad was about to happen.

In the back of her mind, she heard their muted voices as they snapped at each other – Edward calling her his and setting Dean off like a canon. Crowley entered the street just as Edward's family joined him – he was losing the fight against her demon and needed the help.

Voices were raised and hands clutched at her from all sides, trying to pull her both back and forward – a game of tug-o-war that had her dizzy. Finding herself in the middle of Edward and Dean, she tried to ease off to the side but Edward lunged at her and pulled her in front of him...

Right as Dean jolted forward with his blade out.

Time was surreal. She'd known Dean for such a short amount of it – still didn't know him all that well, honestly. His past, her past... both were largely a mystery to the other with but a scant few facts penciled in here or there. Still, when she'd woken up in his arms after witnessing him kill Jane and her friends and he'd declared her his, she'd known it to be true.

And just as she'd known he would be, Dean turned out to be the death of her, that wicked looking blade he was never without slicing into her like a hot knife through butter.

"Dean," she whimpered, pain radiating from her abdomen as she slumped forward into his arms.

Crowley started yelling and Edward started screaming. She thought she heard someone shout out to someone named Sam but she was too focused on Dean to look around and see who the newcomers were...

Dean's eyes flashed from hazel to black, then hazel again as they cleared in realization.

"Cherry," he whispered, sounding more human than she'd ever heard him.

Darkness tainted her vision and slowly, she felt the pull of death's embrace.

Doomed, she thought as her eyes fell closed with a sense of finality. She'd always known they were doomed.

(A/N): All right. Let me have it, I know I deserve it!

Third and final part will be posted next week... Hope you all enjoyed!


	3. Part Three: Cure

**(A/N):** Sorry for the delay - real life reared it's ugly head. Hope you enjoy the final installment :)

 **Bad Medicine**

 **Part Three - Cure**

Guilt was such a silly notion.

As he watched one thing after another unravel in that alleyway, Crowley could feel the sensation of it creeping around the fringes of his consciousness but resolutely batted the emotion away. Such a waste of time; guilt. Pointless, he thought as he watched Bella fall into Dean, the First Blade sinking even deeper into her abdomen, a harsh wet _squish_ that was unnaturally loud amongst the chaos.

Things rarely went according to plan these days, he noted dispassionately.

Curious, he watched as Dean caught Bella up against him. The poor bastard's hands shook as he quickly removed the blade and gathered her limp body to his chest. Falling to his knees, Dean stared at the vivid red blood that stained his hands. It slowly dripped down his fingers and onto her lifeless body, hitting her cheeks in muted plops that began to trickle down her face. She looked like she was crying as her glassy, lifeless eyes stared unseeingly up at him. Crying blood while lying dead in her lover's arms.

How fucking morbid was that, he thought with a disgusted scoff.

Focused on the macabre scene as he was, he saw the instant Dean snapped. It was like watching an already taut rubber band being rapidly and abruptly pulled beyond the brink of what physics said it could stretch until with a terrible _snap!_ it broke under the pressure and lashed out at whoever was nearest. The past few weeks of boozing and paling around with his new demon bestie had Crowley well aware that hanging with Dean was like poising oneself against the tip of a blade. Ruled by his basic impulses, he'd either gut you or throw his arm around you and buy you a drink before singing some Right Said Fred at karaoke. Either way, he'd have a wicked smile all the while.

That was part of the reason he'd tipped off Sammy boy to their whereabouts. As brutally fun as Dean was, he was bad for business. Killing off clients and breaking deals left and right... and there was no reining him in.

But he'd hoped their bromance would be salvaged when they'd happened across the stripper. Perhaps that human blood from Moose had softened him more than he realized but when they'd stumbled into that club, half-drunk and looking for some action, even Crowley had been rather taken with the innocent vixen swinging on the pole.

For him, his fascination with little Bella had sprung from curiosity. Just what was that little girl hiding behind that long brown hair and shining innocent eyes? Dean had been struck much harder though, his connection with the girl instantaneous and complete.

"We're staying," he'd murmured with a smirk, black eyes never leaving the stage as she swayed rhythmically to some Bon Jovi.

"Copy that," Crowley had murmured, flagging down a waitress for some drinks.

Even then he knew; Bella was either going to save Dean or damn him for good.

Dean's eyes flickered from hazel to black to hazel again, his head slowly moving side to side as though fighting something off. Crowley took a wise step back and sequestered himself away in a corner already knowing what was to come.

An abrupt stillness slipped over Dean as though someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head, freezing him in place. Crowley could see the numb iciness flowing over him even as he started to move, arms wooden and stiff while placing Bella on the ground before him. With one last caress of her cheek to swipe away a bloody tear, he rose to his feet, knees cracking a protest at the stilted movement. He stared down at her for a long moment. Crowley thought he heard the faint whisper of ' _I'm sorry_ ' fall from Dean's lips and land in the alleyway like rolling thunder heralding an oncoming storm...

And then Dean looked up, eyes scanning the alley with eerie calm until they locked on the Cold Ones. Crowley subconsciously pressed closer to the wall at his back, trying to avoid the terrible black rage he saw there, an anger that promised swift retribution.

They were all damned now, he thought as Dean's jaw clenched and he stepped over Bella's lifeless body with all the ease of someone stepping over a puddle.

He moved mechanically and with a deadly precision Crowley couldn't help but admire. A well-oiled machine – a weapon honed from a young age – trained to fight and kill the supernatural. One by one, he brought his blade down on the vampires – also a few of Crowley's demons who couldn't get out of the way fast enough – in a violent hail of raw fury. Limbs were rent apart, venom spraying both across his unflinching face and the dank pavement while cries for mercy were met with black apathy.

He saved the ginger leech for last. As he turned his head to look over his shoulder at the cowering fool, Dean's lips pressed together into an unflinching line, his jaw ticking as he turned slowly. Stepping over the mangled bodies of the boy's family, the heavy thuds of his booted feet sounded like a death knell drum ticking down.

"No, please – stop. Just stop!" the boy pleaded in a warbling cry. His dark eyes were wide with horror and he appeared to be in a state of shock.

Crowley supposed seeing your "immortal" family torn to wet shreds within a matter of minutes would do that to a guy; even a Cold One.

"Stop?" Dean mocked, voice raw and full of gravel. Tilting his head, he studied the boy with the menacing air of a predator closing in on a little, wounded lamb. Without warning, he bent down and grabbed the boy by his ankle, yanking him away from the wall he cowered against and dragging him out into the open alleyway. Exposed, Crowley thought as the boy shivered in fear, and vulnerable.

Haunching down over the vampire to keep him from kicking and squirming away like a little worm on a hook, Dean took the First Blade to Edward's throat and pressed it to his marble skin, a deadly caress. "I won't ever stop," Dean said, the words a dark promise that cut through Crowley like black glass.

He started to slice through the boy's neck with aching gentleness and patience. His hands held the soft intimacy of a lover as he softly killed him, murmuring, "I'm going to burn this world to ash and when I get tired of human screams, I'll take this show on the road downstairs just to find you. Enjoy your vacation on the racks – consider that slice of hell a brief reprieve until I come for you and teach you the real meaning of the word pain."

With a firm flick of his wrist, Dean finally silenced Edward's sniveling whimpers and the boy's head hit the ground with a heavy plop, rolling to a stop about an inch away from Crowley's feet.

He stared into the glassy, lifeless eyes of the vampire boy a long moment feeling something akin to satisfaction – relieved, even – that the bastard who had kill Isabella was dead. Not only that but there was a special excitement dancing over his skin as to the fact knowing said vampire was getting an express lane ticket on the highway to hell... The boy would be well and truly under Crowley's thumb and he was particularly eager for some one on one time with the bastard as he did his time on the racks.

"Seems like Christmas has come early, boys," he muttered to his demons lingering at the entryway of the alley, still wary of Dean who was stoic and panting as he stared off into space. "Why don't you gents head on home and make sure our new guest is feeling welcome. Put out the Sunday best."

Let it never be said he was one to look a gift horse in the mouth... Crowley was going to enjoy his time peeling his ounce of flesh out of the boy's marble skin over and over again.

"What the hell was that?"

Crowley blinked and turned to the sasquatch he'd all but forgotten in the face of Dean's fury.

"Why hello there, Moose – better late than never, eh?" he greeted Sam as though the guy's brother hadn't just massacred an alley full of vampires as easily as one tied their shoes.

Dean snapped to attention and Crowley froze when those pitiless black eyes focused on him and Sam. "Did you call him here?" he growled out.

Despite himself, Crowley swallowed as his throat went dry. He'd seen Dean lost to bloodlust many times but he'd never heard him sound quite so inevitable; there was no coming back from the edge for him now. He'd well and truly snapped and fallen of the cliff into madness.

"I trust you came prepared?" Crowley prompted, eyes wide as Dean took a step towards him.

Though he'd never admit it, the relief he felt when Sam moved to intervene was almost staggering. The hunter moved in a well practiced ease, coming up behind Dean and dousing him with a flask full of holy water.

Smoke sizzled off Dean's skin and he hissed, sounding more annoyed than pained. Before the demon could turn around and set that wicked blade of his to work gutting his brother, Sam brought one arm around Dean's chest and hauled him back while the other came down and smashed the butt of his pistol into his left temple.

Dean-o collapsed like a sack of bricks.

Heaving, Sam gave himself a little shake and stared down at his brother with grim determination. But the boy was smart; Crowley knew that, and wasn't entirely surprised when his eyes flicked to Bella's body before catching his in a narrow-eyed glare.

"Who is she?" he demanded.

"You might want to shake a leg," Crowley said dryly, moving to block Bella from Sam's searching gaze. "He won't be out for long."

Gritting his teeth, Sam turned to his brother and hauled him up, grimacing under Dean's solid weight. Crowley pointedly did not offer to help.

"This makes us even," Sam said, moving to exit the alleyway. "You stay away from Dean now – he's not one of your little demon lackeys anymore, you got me?"

Crowley smirked. "Whatever you say, Sammy boy. Good luck," he paused and then added with a hint of a malicious taunt, "– you're gonna need it."

With one last parting glare, Sam hauled his brother out and a moment later, a car engine roared to life.

Taking a moment to collect himself and gather his scattered thoughts, Crowley turned and eyed Isabella's lifeless body pensively.

"Time to head home, sir?" a low-level demon sidled up to him and asked.

Frowning, Crowley continued to stare at Isabella. He knew what his demons thought of him of late – that'd he'd grown distracted and soft. When the sinking feeling grew heavier the longer he stared at the girl's ashen, lifeless form, Crowley had to wonder if they were right.

 _Ah hell_ , he shook it off, coming to his decision. In for a penny, in for a pound as they say...

"No," he answered, walking over to Isabella and crouching by her side. Her eyes were wide and sightless, tiny drops of her blood smearing on the snow white apple of her cheek. The sight caused the pang of guilt to grow but with it he also felt a swell of fondness. Little chit rather had grown on him...

"Change of plans, boys," he announced, scooping the girl up into his arms. Her head fell limply against his shoulder and for a brief moment, he rested his chin atop her forehead and took a deep, sobering breath.

"Let's get our girl here to her room and get the word out – I want Castiel brought to me."

"Castiel, sir? But he is virtually human now – useless and..."

Letting loose a long suffering sigh, Crowley freed a hand and snapped his fingers. The questioning demon froze, eyes wide in terror as his mouth was forced open and a black, billowing cloud of smoke was forcibly expelled. Once done, the empty human body collapsed in a lifeless heap and Crowley turned to the others and quirked a brow.

"Anyone else need me to clarify?"

Shaking their heads and falling over themselves to carry out his orders, Crowley snorted lightly as they all left the alley in a rush.

Rolling his eyes, he looked back down to the dead body in his arms and murmured in Bella's ear, "We just can't find good help these days, can we, love?"

* * *

The night sky was rolled out above her in a technicolor blanket of swirling color. The pavement she laid on was wet and cool against her back, soothing her mind of all thoughts as Bella relaxed in the center of the road. Silence; her mind was filled with it and she was content to lie on that wet road in the middle of nowhere for all eternity, really.

A rumbling purr of a car's engine split the night.

Unconcerned, she kept her peaceful gaze trained on the shooting stars above her even as headlights washed over her and a car came to a stop, its wheels and front door a scant three feet from her face.

"Are you gonna lie around all night, Cherry, or are you gonna get in and come with me?"

Her small smile grew into a beaming grin as she sat up and turned to the speaker.

"Dean," she sighed and bit her lip in relief. "I was waiting for you."

Dean grinned and her heart fluttered when she spied those dimples of his. "Well here I am, sweetheart; come on, let's go for a ride."

She nodded and picked herself up. Tilting her head, Bella took in the car he was driving. Sleek, black and all muscle – it was nothing like the cars he'd been stealing and driving her around in lately.

Closing the door with a gentle thud, she ran an appreciative hand along the dashboard. "I love this car," she said, turning to him with a playful grin.

If possible, Dean's smile got larger. "I knew you and Baby would get along. She's great, isn't she?"

Bella giggled a bit. "Baby? You named the car Baby?"

"I sure did," he beamed, completely unashamed of his apparent love affair as he patted the steering wheel affectionately.

She shot him a playful look. "Should I be jealous?" she teased.

He narrowed his eyes in thought.

"Dean?" she prompted on a laugh when he remained quiet.

"I'm thinking," he barked defensively before he smiled and confessed, "Maybe a little." Then he dropped a wink that had her simultaneously blushing while laughing.

The seat vibrated pleasantly under her as he revved the engine and took off down the road. Their time passed in quiet, comfortable banter. A small corner of her mind noted the unusual lack of road marks – no stop signs, no mile markers, absolutely no evidence or sign of life – but she casually dismissed the oddity when Dean smiled at her and gestured her over to him. Obligingly, she slid over and under his arm, nuzzling into his neck lightly as she curled against him as he drove, never mentioning where they were going.

More time passed and Bella noticed the unusual beauty of the night sky... Was there a meteor shower slated to appear tonight? What was up with the aurora borealis lights streaking the sky and tinting the cab of the car a soothing green-blue? They weren't anywhere near north enough and was it just her, or was the night sky almost too close to them? Everything looked far too detailed but again as she noticed the strangeness of it all, she also got lost in the beauty of it and was lulled into comfort once more, Dean's hand rubbing soothingly up and down her arm.

Again, some time passed and the next thing to pique her interest was impossible to dismiss. Peering up at him with a frown, Bella listened as Dean rambled on about the merits of Metallica's _Master of Puppets_ album. He sounded... different. It was hard to pinpoint what it was that was raising the red flag but as he continued on chatting away, it hit her like a cold slap to the face.

He was happy. Too happy. Unnaturally happy for being, well, Dean. Not once did his eyes flicker black. Not once did she see the subtle hidden sadness he was never without. He was damn near bubbly.

She'd never seen him so... human before.

A cold trickle of awareness danced down her spine and her heart tightened. Not only did this new realization have her want to cry for Dean and what it said about the reality of his life, but it also had her chest seizing. Something bad had happened, she suddenly remembered, and the scene she now found herself in – no matter how lovely and pleasant – just wasn't right.

A sudden flapping – kind of like a heavy coat flapping in the breeze or even the rapid fluttering of wings on a large bird – sounded in the cab just as Bella came to another realization.

"I'm dreaming," she said sadly, feeling disappointed as she pulled slightly away from Dean who just continued talking.

"You're not dreaming," a new voice announced.

Jumping, Bella twirled around to the backseat and started when she saw a man sitting mildly there. His hair was dark and ruffled as if he'd been sitting in a car with all the windows down. His eyes were both curious and kind, impossibly blue as they roved over Dean before he dismissed him entirely and focused on her.

"Hello Isabella," he greeted, not unkind even if a bit monotone.

"Um," she trailed off. Despite knowing she was definitely dreaming now, no matter what this newcomer said, Bella still inched into Dean for comfort. "Hi? And you would be...?"

"Forgive my intrusion but a mutual... acquaintance... of ours asked me to come and retrieve you. My name is Castiel."

"Can I just wake up now? This is far too weird to be dealing with..." she shot back, feeling unnerved by the word 'retrieve.'

"You are upset," he pointed out, almost like he was confirming it to himself. "Is heaven not to your liking?"

"Heaven?" she blurted out in a combination of a scoff and laugh.

"Yes," the man – Castiel – said, nonplused. "For most people, heaven is a series of memories in which they were the happiest. For some, however," he looked at her, vaguely sympathetic. "For some who are lacking in such memories to make it substantial, heaven manifests itself as what their heart desires most."

Her eyes flicked to Dean who was silent now, smiling and carefree as he stared out at the road, completely oblivious to her and the stranger in a trench coat.

"Think Isabella," he encouraged. "What is the last thing you remember before appearing here?"

She thought back. "I was, erm, dancing for Dean," she blushed thinking that was putting it mildly. "And then..." The memory slammed into her and without thinking, her right hand went down to her abdomen and felt for a nonexistent wound. "Oh," she whispered, remembering Edward pulling her in front of him in a desperate attempt to block Dean's blade.

Then she remembered. Dean's flickering eyes as the blade slid home into her stomach and her blood poured out over his hands... His whispered, "I'm sorry," falling into her like a feather floating home to ground... Then darkness until she woke up on the road in the middle of nowhere... Waiting, feeling that it would be wrong to travel the road alone... That she needed someone with her.

She needed Dean.

"I see..." she finally accepted the truth. Tears welled up in her eyes and when she blinked, one heavy tear fell down her cheek.

"I am sorry," Castiel said with genuine sincerity.

She looked back at Dean and her heart tightened again. "Not as sorry as I am," she whispered.

Castiel cocked his head and studied her. "You care a great deal for him."

"I love him," she confessed. The admission had been one she'd been dancing around for a while, knowing it to be true but refusing to acknowledge it. It seemed pointless to deny it now.

She felt Castiel's eyes burning into the side of her face as he studied her with an intensity that bordered on indecent.

"Dean is... well, it's complicated," he began.

She shot him a wry look. "No shit," she said.

He cracked a smile at her and the action made him look lighter and even more handsome. "But the Dean you know isn't really Dean at all, not completely," he cautioned softly. "I have to wonder... if you knew the real him – would you feel the same?"

Frowning, she stared at him. He sounded sympathetic to her plight but also protective. Castiel was worried about Dean, she realized, and about the veracity of her affections. A twinge of defensiveness hit her but she stopped that and forced herself to acknowledge the validity of his concern. Truthfully, it eased her heart some to know Dean had people to care for him when she herself could no longer do so.

So thinking over his words in careful consideration, Bella smiled. It was a no brainer. "Of course," she whispered, her hand subconsciously going to Dean's thigh and squeezing. Heaven-Dean looked down at her and grinned, still oblivious. "I love Dean," she said. "Every part of him, for better or worse and let's face it – I've seen a lot of his worse. I knew about the demon thing right from the start but I just as easily saw the human buried within. He was always there, lurking behind the rage and hurt."

Moments of tenderness that had passed between then flickered in her mind like a small candle flame fighting to burn despite the wind. Dean never seemed to notice it, but often times his hand would smooth down her skin reassuringly or his fingers would massage under her hair at the base of her neck. There were several similar signs of affection, all ones that he never seemed conscious of, almost like they were instinct and he did them without thinking; his human side coming through in small, simple gestures. Those were the moments she fell just as easily as when he was singing obnoxious karaoke songs.

"I believe you," Castiel announced. A sense of acceptance passed over her, like she'd won over her boyfriend's family. "If you would take my hand," he held his hand out palm up. "It's time for you to go."

She stared at his proffered hand before shaking her head, reclining back into Dean as she tightened her grip around his thigh. "No offense or anything," she said. "But you said it yourself – this is heaven. I don't know how long I waited on the side of this road for, unable to move, knowing that somehow it was wrong for me to travel or move forward alone. Then out of nowhere Dean came and I felt right again. Even knowing it's fake, it's better than feeling cast adrift, waiting for something that may never come. This may be a hollow heaven, but it's better than nothing."

Castiel smiled reassuringly. "You misunderstand," he stated. "I mean to take you from heaven, yes, but also bring you back to life and take you to Dean – the real Dean."

She eyed him suspiciously. "How exactly do I know that for sure?"

"Our acquaintance," he said stiltedly, frowning over the word. "Told me to tell you to, and forgive me but I am quoting here, get that luscious ass of yours back down there so he can finish corrupting you. The next time you die you'll go to hell and he'll make you his court jester.'"

Laughter burst out of her and it only got worse when she took in Castiel's frowning, confused face.

"Oh I can't wait to give Crowley hell for that," she giggled.

"You want to give the King of Hell... hell?" Castiel asked.

"Crowley thinks he's hot stuff," she giggled a little at the pun. "But he's rather soft on the inside."

"Crowley?" Castiel deadpanned. "Soft?"

She shrugged. "In his own way. I wonder why he didn't come and fetch me himself, lazy bum," Bella couldn't help but to wonder now that she knew who had sent Castiel.

Castiel leaned forward. "He's a demon," he said in joking confession, giving her a kind of wry, cheesy smile. "Heaven kind of frowns on his sort coming in here."

"So you're not a demon then?" she asked. Knowing that Crowley had sent him, she'd automatically assumed he was one.

He smiled again, looking inordinately amused. "No, I'm not. I'm an angel of the Lord."

Her eyes widened. "Get out!"

Smiling vaguely and looking almost confused, he said, "I think I'm familiar with this one – you're expressing shock, correct?"

Giggles spilled forth again and this time when Castiel held out his hand, Bella took it without hesitation.

* * *

With his back to the door, Sam gritted his teeth and tried to catch his breath.

Crowley was spot on – Dean hadn't been out for long and it seemed luck just wasn't on Sam's side. It hadn't taken his brother long at all to regain consciousness, slip out of his chains and make it out of the devil's trap.

"Oh Sammy..." Dean sing-songed. There was a loud slam against the door and Sam threw his weight back against. "Don't be like that, Sammy – I just want to talk to you!"

Another jarring thud.

"Do you wanna build a snowman?" Dean taunted next, slamming into the door again.

Despite himself, Sam rolled his eyes. "I didn't know you were into Disney movies, Dean," he shouted back, eyes scanning the room for something he could wedge against the door. His gaze lit upon a solid looking chair and he weighed his odds of the locked door withstanding Dean's onslaught if he were to dart out and grab it.

"That ice queen? Yeah, she was pretty hot..." Dean grunted as he slammed into the door again.

Taking a chance, Sam leaped away, snagged the chair and then wedged it under the door knob. Knowing it would buy him only seconds, he tried a Hail Mary to knock Dean off his game and called out, "Not as hot as that piece you were hanging out with in the alleyway."

Silence. The abrupt silence on the other side of the door was so loud Sam's ears were ringing with it.

"Bad move, Sammy," he heard Dean murmur, almost regretfully. "Bad move."

The door gave an impressive shudder right before it splintered apart under Dean's unrelenting fists. That was when Sam realized Dean hadn't been putting any real effort into breaking it down before. He'd just been toying with him.

"Yep," he he mumbled to himself. "Bad move, indeed."

The door splintered further and Dean stuck his head through. Spotting Sam pressed up against the wall, Dean grinned, his obsidian eyes so dark Sam feared he'd get sucked into the blackness if he maintained eye contact.

"Heeeere's Johnny!" Dean drew out, smashing away at the door again.

Swallowing, Sam took off running and while he was able to make it out through another door, Dean wasn't far behind. He already had a broken arm from an earlier confrontation that week and with the power to the bunker having been cut already he knew it would be just a matter of time before Dean cornered him.

He never thought he'd see the day he'd be hunted by his own brother.

Running through the kitchen, he swiped up a knife but Dean was right behind.

"What are you gonna do with that knife, Sammy? You gonna kill me? You're just adorable, aren't you?"

Dean surged forward and crashed into him, slamming Sam up against the wall. They wrestled for the knife but Dean had the upper hand, easily gaining control of it and slowly inching it to Sam's throat.

"Dean – Dean don't!" Sam grunted as the knife crawled ever closer to him.

"You think I care anymore, Sammy? You think I give one damn about this godforsaken shithole?"

"Stop Dean, you don't want to do this!" Sam tried again, his arm cramping and seizing against the unrelenting force of his brother.

"You're wrong there, Sammy. What can I say? It's been a ride – see ya on the other side, brother," he smiled darkly as his arm steeled even further.

"Dean."

One word – his brother's name – and the knife stilled.

Unable to turn and risk the blade cutting him, Sam watched as Dean's eyes widened and flicked. Black, to hazel, to black... He looked conflicted and – hopeful?

"Dean. Please stop."

In response, his arm slackened even further though Dean was clearly in a state of shock and unable to move beyond blinking. Slowly, Sam eased his way out from between Dean and the wall, his eyes shooting over his brother's shoulder.

It was the girl. The girl from the alleyway. Cas was behind her, tense and ready to intervene, but he nodded reassuringly at Sam as the girl stepped closer.

"You want me to stop, Cherry?" Dean growled out in an oddly soft tone, still not turning around. "You never ask me to stop."

"I know," she whispered. "But I am asking right now."

Sam drifted over to Cas and the girl, watching as she moved nearer yet to his volatile brother. He went to stop her from getting too close but froze when Cas gave him a pointed look and shook his head.

"He's your brother, Dean," she said gently as if by explanation, now close enough to place her hand on his own, still clenching around his knife. His arm wavered but he still didn't turn around. Sam saw a playful, annoyed gleam enter her eyes as she dryly tacked on the word, "Apparently."

And like that, all of the violence sighed away from Dean's tense body. He turned, looking at the girl over his shoulder and grinned. "That how it's gonna be, Cherry?"

"You know you like it," she shot back, lifting a brow.

He grinned again which was an admittance in and of itself though he ignored her statement and instead looked her up and down, saying, "Well look at you – back from the dead, I see. Imagine that."

Sam watched as the girl – either mad or fearless – took up the place he'd just been in, willingly trapping herself between the wall and Dean.

"Aren't you gonna kiss me hello?" she asked with a smile.

"Isabella," his brother whispered the name like a prayer. It was heavy and tangled with so much emotion it was impossible for Sam to interpret it all. "My Cherry."

She smiled brighter and Sam had to admit that the expression on her face as she looked up at Dean, placing her hands on either side of his brother's face, made her look positively radiant and even gave him pause.

"Put the demon away for now, Dean, and kiss me like you mean it."

The knife clattered to the floor and Dean swooped the girl up into his arms, not needing to be told twice. When he kissed her, it was obvious the world around them melted away leaving them alone together. Every inch of them was centered and focused on the other.

He's in love, the epiphany hit Sam like a foul ball out to left field. His brother was in love with that girl.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Cas slip forward, catching both his brother and the girl off guard and using his angel mojo to knock Dean out. He'd have to ask the guy how he got his super juice back but was too relieved not to have to see his brother and the girl kissing anymore. Not only was it starting to border on indecent, Dean's hand hiking her thigh up around his hips, but the vulnerability and naked need they had for one another left Sam feeling like he was intruding. Not to mention it also sparked a small, burning ember of envy.

"We don't have much time," Castiel said, hauling Dean up. "We need to tie him back up and finish the cure."

"Cure?" the girl asked, bending down to help. Sam frowned curiously as she gently stroked his brother's forehead before rising, helping Cas to lift him up.

"That's the plan, Isabella," Castiel said as they started moving. "We're gonna cure Dean."

Less than an hour later had Dean securely bound and both Sam and Isabella – Bella, as she insisted they call her – more or less filled in on the other. At least the important bits, that is. While he was still largely shocked by her presence and what she meant to his brother, when she stubbornly insisted on using her own blood and finishing the last few doses for the cure herself, Sam thought it was easy to see how Dean could fall for her.

Sam watched, ready to jump in as she approached Dean who'd finally woken up, her shaking hand holding a syringe filled with her blood.

"I'm not so sure about this," Sam mumbled to Cas as he eyed the scene in front of him nervously. "Maybe I should just finish it..."

"She'll be fine, Sam," Castiel reassured. "Dean's not going to do anything to harm her."

He hated to voice it, but he couldn't help but ask, "Have you considered what will happen if this does work? If the cure works and Dean is no longer a demon will she stick around given that's all she knows him as...?"

Castiel smiled. "Have faith, Sam. Isabella's intentions are pure. She'll do more than cure him – she's going to be his salvation."

"Come again?" Sam asked doubtfully.

"Cain was able to bear the mark for decades peacefully. He was able to move beyond the bloodlust and put up the blade – you remember why, don't you?"

"His wife," he answered, turning back to Bella and watching as she shuffled closer to Dean.

"His wife," Castiel nodded. "You and I can cure Dean, Sam, but only Isabella can save him. For us he'd live but for her? For her, he'll forsake the mark and fight. He already has, to some extent."

It stung to a mild degree knowing that he alone wasn't enough reason for his brother to not surrender to what he saw as inevitable, to always keep fighting. But he knew they'd both, purposefully and accidentally, had burned each other too many times in the past – especially recently. There wasn't anything they wouldn't do for the other but Sam knew Dean. If his brother got it his head that succumbing to the mark was inevitable, then he'd give up. He'd go down swinging, but ultimately, Dean would give up.

Especially if he thought it'd save Sam from having to take him out himself.

But if he had Bella – sweet, innocent Bella who not only wanted him to keep fighting but needed him to do so? Sam had seen Dean do the impossible before and he didn't doubt that he'd do it again for her.

"Isn't this a little kinky, Cherry?" Dean asked after he'd scanned the room, black eyes glossing over him and Cas before dismissing them entirely as they alighted on her. "What with the audience and me being all tied up – don't get me wrong; I'm down to party. Just surprised you're wanting to put on a show."

Strange, but his taunting had Bella relaxing. Her hand stopped shaking and she stood straighter as she moved closer to him, the curl of a smile on her pink lips. "Given where we first met I wouldn't think you'd be all that surprised, Dean."

"Is that what this is?" Dean's eyes lit up. "You gonna give me a lap dance, Cherry."

Bella smiled and came to a stop before him. Her hand lifted to his cheek and gentle massaged his smirk away. Sam noticed how despite the angry black eyes, Dean leaned into her touch, some part of him craving the contact even knowing what she was going to do.

"I'm going to give you everything you want, Dean. Everything I have is yours."

With that, she plunged the syringe into his arm and injected her blood into him. Dean grunted and hissed, fists clenching around the arms of the chair but he didn't fight her as he had Sam. There were no death threats or mocking taunts. The anger was there but somehow leashed. Whether unwilling or incapable of subjecting her to it, it was clear Dean would go to great lengths to protect Bella. Even from himself.

As the worst of it passed, Dean looked up at her again, panting and shaking as her blood traveled through his veins and started to burn out the demon. "You know you're supposed to confess your sins first, right Cherry? Purify the blood. You wanna tell me your sins – a little dirty talk before the big event?"

"Oh Dean," she smiled, her hand sifting through his hair affectionately. "We both know you're my greatest sin."

"You gonna repent for your sins then, Cherry? You gonna drop your sins like a bad habit and move on – start the good life of clean, wholesome living?"

Sam knew he wasn't the only one who saw the genuine anger... and hurt... that she may do exactly that written across Dean's face. Ignoring the barbed accusation, Bella placed herself sideways onto Dean's lap and hugged him. Dean's head nuzzled into her neck as she rested her chin atop his head.

"I don't love the demon in you... I don't love the human either. I just love Dean Winchester, however he happens to be."

Dean's shoulders slagged. He didn't say anything, not as she remained on his lap and held him as time went on and not as she completed the two final doses with her blood. But his silence spoke loudly to Sam and he knew his earlier epiphany to be entirely accurate. Human or demon, it hardly mattered. Every part in Dean loved that woman so much that he'd willingly accept her blood as it seared through his veins, chipping away the only part of him she'd ever really known. He loved her enough to give her what she wanted even if it meant losing her.

When the last dosage of the cure was delivered, Dean slumped forward in the chair, panting as he let himself burn for the girl holding him tightly to her. The worst of it passed and when Dean looked up, Sam was irrevocably relieved when he looked into the hazel eyes of his brother.

He and Dean stared at each other a long moment in silence. Bella was none the wiser as she simply held him to her with her face planted into the side of Dean's neck, unwilling to pull away from him. The corner of Dean's mouth lifted in a tired greeting and Sam and Castiel both sagged in relief.

The cure had worked. Dean was human again.

In the next moment, Dean registered the weight of the girl on his lap and broke his stare with Sam. He looked down at her, as much as her fierce hold would allow anyway, and Sam watched as the smile grew even as his eyes hardened. He recognized the look of self-preservation instantly. Dean was hopeful but trying not to be... Too many times to count they'd been given a lucky break only for it to burn to ashes, scaring them in the process.

Sensing his movement, Bella loosened her hold and slowly pulled back far enough to meet Dean's gaze.

A world of words passed between them in that silent look, both of them afraid of their welcome but too stubborn to admit so.

Sam saw Dean steel himself to break the tension, likely willing to take the risk so she wouldn't have to. Always one to bear the brunt of the burden for others... "Bella?" he murmured, her name filled to the brim with questions.

The smile that stretched the girl's face put the sun to shame and the soft but glazed look that crossed Dean's eyes told Sam his brother thought so too. "Well sure," Bella answered. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them. A teasing smile perked her lips as she added conspiratorially, "But I don't mind it when you call me Cherry."

"Is that so?" he lifted his brows and asked, eyes roving over her face as though worried she'd disappear at any moment. "Well then, you gonna untie me... Cherry?"

Her eyes widened in a combination of mischievous innocence. "Haven't decided yet," she said, obviously teasing.

Dean relaxed even further, his uncertain smile becoming more genuine. "That sounds... promising."

"Doesn't it though?" she shot back.

The moment of levity fell into something softer, more intimate and honest.

"Bella," Dean whispered again, though it wasn't so much a question this time as it was an affirmation. "My Bella," he added so softly, Sam doubted even Dean knew he said it.

"Yes Dean," she reassured him, her hands soothing down his arms as she brought her face closer to his.

Dean swept his tongue along his lower lip. "Well then," he murmured to whatever unspoken agreement they appeared to have reached. "What's this I remember hearing about a kiss?"

She smiled again. "I don't know," she teased. "Maybe you hit your head in your little scuffle from earlier."

"Cruel woman," he said without bite.

"Shut up," she countered, putting Dean out of his misery and pressing her lips to his.

Sam turned away. His heart gave a pang for loves lost but his happiness for Dean far outweighed his envy.

"We still have the mark to deal with," Castiel muttered to him, he too turning away from the couple.

"We'll deal with it – as we always do," Sam said. "For now, just let them be."

"Shouldn't we untie him?" Cas asked.

Sam mashed his lips together and fought a smirk. Clapping a hand to the angel's shoulder, he said, "Dude – it wasn't that long ago you were fully human. Do you really not know the answer to that?"

Cas glanced back at the couple, eyes widening as he saw that Bella now straddling Dean's lap as a low groan of approval escaped the man.

"Right then," the angel said and Sam couldn't help but laugh as Cas made a quick escape.

Still, when he got to the door, Sam couldn't help but pause and turn slightly as he heard Dean's voice travel lowly throughout the room...

"...love you..."

Relief and determination blanketed over him as Sam turned back around, closing the door on the loving scene. They may have won the battle and cured Dean... but he still had the Mark of Cain and so the war would rage on.

And Sam was even more determined to save him now that his brother had something to live for.

* * *

 **(A/N):** Annnnnd scene! That's the end, folks! I may at one point write a follow-up – I wanted to leave it open for one just in case – but that's the end of _Bad Medicine_. Thank you all so much for you comments/reviews and for reading. I loved writing it and I can't wait to write more Supernatural stories! I have one that heavily features Charlie coming up next :D

Cheers, darlings!


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